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Unlucky Charles, apparently not so bad as kings go. https://cimg2.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...4a6f929a4d.png I like faces. https://cimg6.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...68288a4ef3.png |
The night before we left for London, David and I heard commotion on the street. The next morning, on our way to breakfast up the Royal Mile, we saw several shop windows had been boarded up or being replaced. On the ride to Waverly Station, our taxi driver commented bitterly that the police were more vigilant towards innocent cabbies than glass-smashing hooligans.
I don't do Uber, and the cab I booked online was prompt, took us directly to the station, cost only slightly more than the bus would have. I hope we gave the morose-seeming Eastern European cabbie an adequate tip. I felt grateful for the ride. I guess I'll mention here that I had endured six weeks of radiation therapy this summer, and expected at any time to feel more energetic. I was pushing myself to walk Edinburgh's hills, did not have it in me to roll my suitcase to the station. I was looking forward to too-rare brother time for myself, with one or two outings a day, and otherwise setting them loose together as travel consultant. We got to the Celtic in London an hour or so after Joe's overnight flight from Kansas City, found him stoked and ready to get out on the town. David is a rural outdoors man who's never lived in a city larger than Columbia MO, home of the U of MO Tigers (of which more later.) Joe lives in suburban Kansas City, drives everywhere he goes. By the end of their week together, they proudly navigated London's bus and Tube systems. (Joe and I disagreed over the number of Piccadilly lines, though; he stoutly maintained there are two, even after I bet him 25 cents there's only one. I think most people will back me up on that, though of course it divides west after Acton Town.) I always like to start a London visit near Ground Zero, Trafalgar Square, so we wandered through Covent Garden, paused, then up to Chinatown, which was hopping. Joe took delighted photos of everything: manhole covers, amusing signs. We ate dim sum plus new and familiar food at a likely-looking spot, then wound our way back up Shaftesbury Ave. The next day promised to be warm and sunny, so I sent the brothers off to the Thames Clipper, now Uber, for a boat ride I still find thrilling, from the Embankment to Greenwich. Fun brotherly adventures, even though somehow missing the wonderful Maritime Museum as suggested. They stumbled upon a fashion show at the marketplace, climbed the hill. Coming back, they stopped at the Tower of London, happened to be standing near the exit when a woman asked a guard whether she could just go in, since it was within an hour of closing. He said yes, so they slipped in too and loved it. Neither of them is particularly interested in my genealogy research, but I thought they should know that at least a few of our ancestors were beheaded there for such crimes as backing the wrong guy. I've always avoided it, pre- and post-research. There's lots else to see. I also avoid the Tube, because there's so much fun aboveground, but they decided to take it from the Tower back to Russell Sq as a practice exercise for later. Per Joe, "So we don't get on the wrong Piccadilly Line." Joe, Joe. |
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One of my favorite views, from a sidewalk table at my favorite Pret across from the Celtic. https://cimg7.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...1f449e1c17.jpg Celtic front windows. |
One morning we caught bus #17 to the foot of the Shard by Borough Market, made it just after 09:30 when it was merely crowded. My daughters and I had gone several times for the spectacle and the Kappacasein toasted cheese, and I knew my brothers would enjoy it. Colors, smells, the sensual feast as ever. Free samples are another irrational casualty of the pandemic. Joe bought tea for his wife. A cheese man commented on David's embroidered horse silhouette cap, said his summer job was training horses. Equestrian chitchat ensured while he gave us samples of his fine cheeses. I bought a little Shropshire Blue that I later stashed well-wrapped by my French windows to keep cool, then the hotel maid discarded as trash the next day. Add to list of life's little regrets. The Celtic would have let me put it in their refrigerator, and I suppose mice are famous for being attracted to cheese. Dumb move on my part.
We found seats at the Borough picnic tables and ate our lunch finds, plotted our next moves. We talked about the starlings that infest that area looking for scraps, talked about the misguided soul who, because the birds were mentioned in Shakespeare, imported a pair to North America. I gestured with a bite of bread and cheese held shoulder high, and a starling snatched it before I knew it was happening. David and Joe by this time realized the value of a handy Pret. Like a McDonald's for some in the US, Pret promises consistent good quality, often use of a bathroom. David started getting his early morning cappuccino at the one across from Russell Sq Tube stop, then later at the one overlooking Russell Sq Gardens. After the Market, we paused at the Pret by the London Bridge bus terminal, out of the hubbub. Brothers left on foot for the Imperial War Museum, I headed back to the hotel. #17 Bus stops almost a half mile from the Celtic, and I walked it slowly, starting to realize that my heart was doing odd things. Even resting in the lounge before climbing to my first floor room, I became faint. Never had any cardiac issues, but I'm a recently retired health professional, diagnosed myself with atrial fib. I spent the rest of that day considering my options: the newspapers told me that NHS patients were waiting a year for CT scans, two years for MRI's, and some physicians were going on strike that week. There's such a thing as private docs, but how to access them? And even if I did, any therapies would be lengthy and expensive. Would an urgent care clinic have an EKG machine, and was there any point? I still had two weeks before heading home, and I expected Hannah in less than a week; our time together in London is treasured and never to be missed. So I decided to take it very easy, stick to the plan, only mention it to anyone on a need-to-know basis. I had been hoping to spend a few days in Rye after Joe and David left and before Hannah arrived, but could not see myself walking those hilly streets alone. Decided to sit tight at the caring Celtic. |
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Joe had friends who'd suggested things to do, and he had a list of must-sees, including enticing SoHo shopfronts. (several photos there, anyway.) I talked him out of the Eye, especially since I had gotten Sky Garden tickets when they came available.
Back on Bus #17 to the Monument, then to queue in the Ticketholder line for Sky Garden lift. (There was a shorter line for those without reservations, but it didn't seem to move.) At top: Wow and Holy Smokes. What a beautiful, generous room. We were blessed with a morning of blue skies, huge fluffy clouds, a windy balcony with room for everyone, and such a view. There were a few buckets on the floor around the café area, showing that the window/ceiling had not been adequately waterproofed. High above, a workman walked around attempting repair, but not tethered. Insanity, with that wind. Surely he was wearing Tom Cruise style suction boots? Some people are apparently born fearless. Joe has become a die-hard Kansas City Chiefs NFL fan, and all week I had tried to find a pub where he could watch the Sunday night game despite Rugby World Cup. There's a restaurant out near Holland Park that specializes in KC-style food, but none of the online photos showed a screen. I made reservations at the Fitzrovia American-style Dive Bar Passyunk Avenue, and we walked over, but this was the week before Taylor Swift/Travis Kelce phenomenon, and Chiefs had been outvoted. The charming young hostess offered us space in the basement, with a program that switched among games. The dive bar energy looked a bit much for me, so I started back on my own. Joe and David found the basement fun but overstimulating, didn't last long. On their way back on Store Street, they passed the College Arms that I had peeked into earlier, saw it cozy but oddly empty. David spotted a Chiefs logo on one of their screens, and they watched the end of a successful game. I was alone in the Celtic lounge when they came back, relaxed while they watched the Missouri U Tigers Football game on Joe's phone. Suddenly they both shouted; Kansas State had tied the game. The woman from the office came out to see what the ruckus was about, and I had to apologize that it was sports yelling. I had a word with them about small hotel etiquette. After I went to my first floor room shortly afterwards, the Mizzou place kicker nailed a 61 yard field goal in the final minute to win the game. Not a peep from the lounge; sisterly scolding, brotherly restraint. My new mobile phone calendar for some reason showed times and dates I'd entered in Central Daylight US, and I tried to compensate. Not successfully. I had gotten us tickets for The Play That Goes Wrong, in Covent Garden, for what I kept thinking was Monday evening. We showed up in plenty of time at the oddly dark Duchess Theatre, my cue to double-check. Ah. Our tickets, alas, were for Sunday night, the Chiefs vs whoever that was and Mizzou vs K State night when in any case they would have been sneaking looks at the score between scenes. Dang and oh, well. We walked over to the Royal Opera House, through the lobby to the rooftop bar lift. That was just fine, looking out over the Market, over to Lord Nelson on his column. Rest up, think of what next. On the way out past the posters of past performances, David asked the young usher what her favorite performance had been. Her description of the ballet Mayerling was thrilling for me, the way her eyes lit up, the excitement of a ballet with a male lead. She also seemed gratified to be asked, which I would never have done. It's good to travel with more outgoing brothers. Joe mentioned that he hadn't had British food besides the hotel breakfasts, and I thought Brown's on St. Martin's Lane might not be too busy. We found it just fine, and British enough for the guys. Afterwards, a security guard told us the best spot on Charing Cross to catch a cab, also warning fellow tourists not to leave phones or purses handy for thieves. We got off our cab in front of the former Russell Square Hotel, and felt like quality folks. More later about that hotel. |
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A generous place to relax, be amazed. Thank you, Sky Garden. https://cimg6.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...f5ab879ff7.jpg Some sort of reception at ROH with a string quartet. I've looked up at where I was standing in the past, wondering what was up there. https://cimg7.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...0f642289c3.jpg I think fashion week had been going on. This was some sort of perfume promotion. I'm prejudiced against Giorgio perfume, from the years long ago when women would wear too much of it. https://cimg8.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...f58aed9887.jpg Quite a river, quite a bridge. https://cimg9.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...781eadd5c0.jpg https://cimg0.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...9eb3573b23.jpg |
Whitstable, and so long bros
Joe's taking photos of Soho's shall we say Adult Shops -- not to mention of the gay bar in Chinatown openly labeled as such, earning him glares from at least one man sitting at their outdoor table -- is probably based on the lack of such places in Missouri. Here in St. Louis, we have places known to be gay bars, but no such sign out front. I don't think there are strip clubs in St. Louis; you have to cross the Mississippi into Illinois. I have the impression that our young people outstate must choose either the Saint or Sinner route, at least temporarily. Babies keep getting born, though. Joe and David ate twice at the Indian restaurant just down Southampton Row, and loved it. Sign out front says "World Famous," but I'd never considered stopping in. First time, the host invited them in and suggested a feast. They liked it so much they went back a few days later. Someone said London has the best anywhere? (I did notice a higher than previous percent of people from the Asian Subcontinent this past year. Brexit related? One young server I spoke with asked me where I was from, then told me she was from Sri Lanka, hoped to get her PPE in London.) With two Chinatown and two Indian dinners, I'm glad they worked in a Brown's shepherd's pie. Oh, cosmopolitan London. I appreciate Fodorites who suggested small towns within easy train ride for my hoped-for break, my missed-Rye interlude. As it turned out, Joe wanted to get out into the countryside by train. So for the landlocked Midwesterner birthday man, and since this was their last full day, despite the fact there are plenty of things to do in London, Whitstable it was. We caught Bus #38 from Bloomsbury Square to Victoria Station, a scenic ride in itself, then Two Together plus Joe tickets to Whitstable. It's a pretty ride through Kent, with a glimpse of chalk cliffs as we neared the sea. Then a windy half mile or so downhill to the central business district, past modest, picturesque homes. An old fashioned seaside town, quiet this cloudy midday. As we got closer, David guided us down a shortcut path off the High Street. There we met a man who sensed out foreignness, took us under his local wing, gave us directions and tips to best seafood restaurant bets. We had been headed to Wheeler's, but our man advised we probably wouldn't get a table that time of day, steered us to Whitstable Oyster Company. We lucked into a table, and the place filled up fast soon afterwards. Atmospheric rough-planked, with a view of the sea (or estuary, as I'm afraid our server mentioned) where they had their own oyster bed. Cheerful service. I ordered and enjoyed Sussex ray wing. I still decline to develop a taste for oysters. David had previously told me he would not eat them, because he might be a little allergic. Caught up in oyster enthusiasm, though, he and Joe ordered a half dozen, expecting a plate of six to go with their fish orders. The server interpreted half dozen each, brought out a dozen plateful that would delight many. But not David or me. He ate three, unable to stop thinking how they had been harvested downstream from London, Joe the rest. I looked away. Afterwards, a kind hostess at Wheeler's ordered me a cab back to the station. The brothers stayed, walked along the shore, enjoyed the sea air, and Joe engaged in talk with Real English People. The next morning, Joe had to leave before breakfast to catch his flight, so I walked him to the platform, hugged him, put him on his train. David had time for Joe's Celtic Full English Breakfast before he left. I was sorry to see them go, and glad for rare time together. |
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Joe bought his goofy tourist cap on Southampton Row. https://cimg4.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...77dca8ad16.jpg https://cimg5.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...c314a7c37e.jpg https://cimg2.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...4b8889c83c.jpg Several things to see in Whitstable https://cimg3.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...5de15ed7a6.jpg Oysters plucked from just out there. |
Still enjoying your report and photos. I love your casual informal writing style.
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Thank you for more stunning shots, stokebailey. I hope your health stayed manageable
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Thank you both very kindly!
I am doing fine now, thanks to modern medicine. |
A couple of museums
I've always appreciated the Celtic Hotel location. Besides being a block from the Piccadilly Line so easy from LHR, it's walkable to almost everywhere I'd want to go in Central London, and a short walk to several bus lines. This time, with my stamina bottomed out, I liked being able to walk across to Russell Square Gardens on those beautiful September days, sit on a bench, watch a fascinating stream of humanity. A little further took me to the British Museum's easier Montague Place back entrance, through the King Edward VII wing. I've visited many times, but never somehow stumbled upon the Great Court Restaurant at the top of the central structure. I liked the looks of their menu. What a great museum. One evening I walked past and spotted a violin case on the low wall behind the museum. While I tried to decide whether I should do anything about it, a man stopped and looked at it, saw my dilemma. Should we touch what could be some careless kid's instrument, or not? He picked up the case, saw that it was empty, said that we could now both sleep better that night. I love Londoners. I'd been waiting for the National Portrait Gallery to re-open my last two visits, was looking forward to seeing what they came up with. I knew they needed to reconfigure a few things. This time, I approached what I thought was the entrance but turned out to the Portrait Restaurant, was politely waved to the next door up the hill. As I entered the Gallery, I was glad to open for inspection my metal case of watercolor pencils. The young guard told me absolutely I could not bring those in. What?! I'm all for not profiling, but do I look like a watercolor pencil art vandal? He brought over a slightly older young guard who peered closely at the pencils, pronounced them OK. But don't let anyone bring in watercolors! I had used up half my energy just getting there and through the door. As you enter the gallery proper, you see the same long escalator on the left, this time gallery to the right with special exhibition of Paul McCartney's photos. (Tempting, but not quite enough.) I took the escalator, was a little surprised at the top to see the same immediate bottlenecked room of Plantagenet and Tudor portraits. Wonderful stuff, but mobbed. I'd watched The Favourite on the flight over, so was glad again to see Queen Anne and Duchess of Marlborough portraits. I always like seeing Charles II and his mistresses, too. All of these rooms, Shakespeare, Villiers showing off his long stockinged legs, seemed the same as before. I didn't explore the ground floor, but my impression is that restaurants and facade got most of the recent renovation. Sketched Wordsworth, Lord Byron, Chas. James Fox, the Duchess of Marlborough. |
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The view from my room, a rare rainy morning after Joe and David left. Russell Square is across the street. https://cimg2.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...542af53b8a.jpg There's always something to discover at the British Museum. https://cimg4.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...96bc539db6.jpg The benefit of sketching, besides the memory, is sitting and looking closely for a while. https://cimg6.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...1a84757d75.jpg These travel sketchbooks are lightweight, perfect. I get them on Great Russell Street, two blocks west of the British Museum, at my favorite art store, L.Cornellisen & Son. https://cimg7.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...f6d99b1f44.jpg Fox had a jolly look |
Missing the bus. Going to Hampstead.
Notices hung at Southampton Row bus stops warning that route #188 would soon be discontinued. That is bad news. Bus 188 would pick me up near the Celtic then head up through Camden, past Camden Market, the funky shops and the Round House and into higher rent neighborhoods, terminating at the bottom of Hampstead Heath. My favorite bus ride anywhere. I'll admit the bus was rarely very full going north. But I will miss that bus. It's possible to walk 10 or 15 minutes to Gower Street and catch bus #24 going north to the Heath, so that will now have to do. After my brothers left and before Hannah arrived I caught 188 one fine day. Stopped at Silverberry bakery for coffee, bought a Guardian at the newsstand, poked around some of the Hampstead shops, selected fruit at the little outdoor stand. I couldn't walk all the way to Kenwood house, but I made it up to near the men's bathing pond. That Heath: Powerful trees with strong personalities. Merganser ducks swimming in ponds. High class dog breeds being walked. If I had several million dollars I'd buy a house there. |
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https://cimg3.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...80a0216085.jpg https://cimg0.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...3fcb344d3d.jpg LNER King's Cross to Scotland is how David and I traveled.. |
A comedy club, an opera, and a play
A few days after the brothers left, Hannah arrived. She is fine with a top floor basic room at the Celtic, this time quieter and facing away from the street. Inexpensive, just fine. She got us tickets for a Saturday night show at the Bill Murray, Angel Comedy in Islington. One easy bus ride away, then down Queen's Head. We met there after she'd spent the afternoon with friends. Queens Head had felt a little sketchy walking by myself after dark, but the neighborhood would be no doubt pricey beyond my reach. That was a fun evening. It's a small room with a bar and a little outdoors patio. This show was called Cupidity Comedy. Less than 10 GBP each. The idea was that the host would choose a bachelorette from the audience who would then decide which of the four comics he or she would marry. Or something. I liked the host a lot. He chose a woman bachelorette, though three of the comedians were women and the fourth was a gay guy. Trying to keep it edgy, maybe. Usually when I go to these small funky clubs, I'll like one of the comedians, endure the others, but in this case they were all funny. An oddball - looking guy came early and alone, and I thought he would have been the perfect bachelorette. When I told him that afterwards, he agreed. I wasn't in the mood for anything tragic or heavy, and had been disappointed at what Royal Opera House was offering that month. One day in September I happened to hear a favorite aria from l'Elisir d'Amore, checked what was on again at ROH, was glad to see they had added that fun and wonderful opera when we would be in town. We absolutely loved it. I had seen the same production years ago with my other daughter, big pile of haystacks in the first act, a truck driving onstage with magic potions for sale. It was just delightful. Our seats were high in the amphitheatre, steps up even from the rooftop level. Another night we saw Pygmalion at the Old Vic, the George Bernard Shaw original of My Fair Lady. I'd listened to my father's LP of the Julie Andrews Broadway version many times as a child, so it was a little hard to keep the tunes out of my head. The musical lifted so many lines intact from the play. Old Vic is an easy bus ride from the Celtic down over the river. We really enjoyed this production. They modernized it a bit, still had her marry Freddy, then become a successful businesswoman. |
Worshipful Companies, Sheep, then Pearlies
One Sunday morning, we headed down to Southwark Bridge in the City, around a 10K race, for the London Sheep Drive and Livery Fair. Sheep, as in sheep? Yes, the Worshipful Company of Woolmen exercise their ancient right to drive sheep across the bridge (formerly London Bridge, but closed to vehicles so now Southwark.) A fun animal spectacle on a human scale, ten at a time led by celebrity sheepherder. We missed the celebrity part, and all five drives, but there were plenty to see at the City end. We watched a man demonstrate shearing a sheep quickly and humanely, entertaining the small crowd with explanation of the procedure while promoting of wool as sustainable fabric. He made it look easy. Could a shepherd be that charming? All 12 original Ancient Guilds had stalls, men and women in robes and medallions standing around looking impressive. Mercers, ironmongers, grocers so forth who used to ensure quality, regulate competition. Were any of those Worshipfuls in the grocery or goldsmith line currently? I never asked. A comforting display of prosperity and continuity. I bought a dibbler for my gardener brother, after watching a man turning them from ash wood on a lathe, and a lavender sachet with silken map of London for my mother. Next, the race over, we walked up to the Guildhall and the Pearly Kings and Queens Costermongers Harvest Festival. Another very London human spectacle, with Pearlies everywhere. Punch and Judy. A Pearlie Maypole (in September?) with ribbons held mostly by those who were no longer young. Dignitaries, Chelsea Pensioners, maybe a Mayor or two. The Pearly Queen of Harrow told me that the younger generation didn't tend to have time or inclination to attend these events that can take up the entire day. Several Kings and Queens brought their grandchild Princes and Princesses, adorned, who collected money for charity. We felt privileged to witness Ancient -- and merely Old -- London still very much alive. I told myself I would make Hannah a pearlie jacket, but I haven't done it yet. |
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Sheep and the City. https://cimg9.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...06fd2b5205.jpg He knows his way around a sheep. https://cimg6.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...e7664970ab.jpg Turning wood. The dibbler is to make a hole for transplants or seeds. https://cimg2.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...bea813b37c.jpg Looking worshipful. https://cimg4.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...1c414d68f3.jpg Love a Punch and Judy. https://cimg5.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...2d4d8cc4a3.jpg The Guildhall https://cimg2.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...33ec736bba.jpg https://cimg8.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...d4be2fa916.jpg Not for the Queen of May. https://cimg0.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...77d6c69577.jpg https://cimg1.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.fod...3aa187ec89.jpg |
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